Seventh Sister's Mentorship

Intro

Author's Note: Hi y'all, I want to credit this fanfiction to Imperator of Metal's story "Wavered Inquisitor" of fanfiction .net. I also uploaded this story on there too, but on Wattpad this will be an updated version. Thanks again for reading and let me know any feedback. Thanks

3 BBY – Rebel Base

The Seventh Sister sat in the cold, dim cell, her back resting against the rough concrete wall. She'd been confined like this since her capture on Malachor. The rebels had wasted no time locking her up, which made sense. She'd committed more than enough atrocities in the name of the Empire. Her past as an Inquisitor was known, and the soldiers guarding her gave her nothing but hard stares, some with a mix of fear and hatred.

It wasn't the first time she'd been watched like this—constant surveillance, distrust seeping through every crack in the walls. Interrogation after interrogation, the questions were endless. She'd been asked the same things over and over again until it felt like her mind was scraped dry. All the Empire's secrets she could remember were already spilled out onto the interrogation table.

Now, there was only silence. And time.

Too much time.

She was no stranger to captivity. Whether it had been her youth in the Jedi Temple, her years serving the Inquisitorious, or now this Rebel prison—each had been a cage of its own. But this one... it was different. The bars were physical, but the shackles she felt were deeper than that. The meals were better than the rations she'd been used to—an ironic luxury—but they did little to stir her hunger. She ate simply because she had to survive, but surviving was just... routine now.

Would execution be so bad? she wondered. The thought crossed her mind more often than it should. At least in death, she'd be free from these endless chains. Her heart tightened as she remembered her parents—how they had handed her over to the Jedi. How the Order, for all its rules and promises, failed to protect its own. Even the younglings. She'd been thrown from one cause to another her whole life, from the Order to the Inquisitorious, and now the Rebels would probably use her the same way. They'd take what they needed from her—her skills, her power—and throw her into whatever dangerous mission came next.

Closing her eyes, she let herself drift into a rare, fitful sleep. It wasn't long before a vision began to form, a dream so vivid it felt almost tangible.

In her vision, there was peace—a green, mountainous planet, far removed from the chaos of the galaxy. The air was fresh, the sky bright, and the valley below was quiet. There, nestled in the hills, stood a house adjacent to a temple—simple, yet large enough for a garden, a barn. And there, in front of the house, stood a man. His face was familiar—Ezra Bridger, older by a decade or more, with a rougher edge to his features, stubble lining his jaw. The sight of him made her mind race. She saw other Jedi too, their conversations ringing out across the valley, and in that moment, she felt... contentment. The kind she'd never known.

And then, she woke.

Her eyes fluttered open, and the familiar, cold cell walls greeted her. She let out a long, weary sigh, her vision fading as quickly as it had appeared. But the feeling it left behind lingered. It wasn't the loneliness she craved—it was the peace, the solitude, and him.

Ezra. Other Jedi.

But could she ever reach that? How could she ever have that kind of life?

Is it even possible for someone like me?

Her current predicament felt like a prison she'd never escape. Her entire existence had been dictated by others. First the Jedi, then Vader, and now... these Rebels. Why did it always feel like she had to serve someone, some cause? Why couldn't she just be left alone? The galaxy had no room for Force sensitives to live in peace, it seemed.

It was the curse of power, she thought bitterly. Power always came with strings attached. And now, if she wanted to live, she'd have to play along with this new set of strings—serve the Rebels, keep herself useful. That was the only way she'd ever stand a chance at the life she dreamed of.

"Kriff," she muttered under her breath. "I guess I have to serve these Rebels if I want to stay close to him."

The clanking sound of boots approached her cell. The door slid open with a harsh, metallic hiss. A Rebel corporal stood there, flanked by a squad of well-armed soldiers, their blasters aimed at her. The corporal's expression was as hard as the metal doors.

"Follow me," he ordered.

Seventh Sister rose to her feet slowly, her muscles stiff from days of confinement. She gave him a cold, defiant stare, but inside, the gears of her mind were turning.

If this was the path she had to walk to survive, then so be it.

But one way or another, she would find her way to that peaceful valley—with or without them.